


Tired Of This Body (You Keep Me Intact)

by great_turkey_calamity



Series: Hey Look Trans Rep [4]
Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Alex is not having a good day at all, David is there for half a second, Dysphoria, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pez is mentioned, Trans Alex Claremont-Diaz, this is kind of trash lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:16:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25398280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/great_turkey_calamity/pseuds/great_turkey_calamity
Summary: On a bad dysphoria day, Alex feels like nothing can pull him out of his slump. Henry tries his hand at helping.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Series: Hey Look Trans Rep [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747501
Comments: 9
Kudos: 105





	Tired Of This Body (You Keep Me Intact)

**Author's Note:**

> Another update?? Consistently updating?? Who am I lol

Alex is, quite possibly, having one of the worst days of his life, dysphoria-wise.

He’s tried just about everything he can to combat it; he went on a run, worked on a couple essays and reports, texted Pez, hell— he even _wrote about his feelings,_ like Henry suggested. 

None of it seems to have worked very well. 

At the same that he feels so incredibly numb and hollow, he is entirely overstimulated. He hasn’t been able to drag himself out of bed for several hours, and his mind is screaming at him, yanking and pulling him in all different directions. Every breath requires an absolutely stupendous amount of effort, especially with David sprawled across his chest, happily snoozing away. He forgives the sweet dog, a hand drifting through his fur whenever he feels particularly inspired to show his thanks for the attempt at emotional comfort.  
  


He finds himself growing lost in his thoughts a little too frequently for his liking. At first, they start of innocently enough, retracing the steps that took throughout the day and remembering assignments to finish or errands that need to be taken care of. Soon enough, they’re drifting to much darker places; his early days out of the closet, the people he’s lost along the way throughout his ongoing, tedious journey, every time he’s ever been misgendered and dead-named by family members long after coming out, the fact that for his entire life, his actions have been motivated by envy because he’ll never be able to escape from his useless _fucking_ body—

“Hey love,” Henry calls out to him from the edge of the doorway, jolting him back to life from his downwards spiral of dissociation. He doesn’t find himself responding, rather watching as he makes his way inside and lets the bedroom door click shut. The silence continues as he makes his way over to their bed, David hopping off the bed to lay on the floor when he feels it dip with Henry’s weight. “How are you?” He questions, reaching for Alex’s hand.  
  


“Mmm.” He grunts in reply, body stiff and unresponsive, rejecting the gentle, affectionate touch. He feels a kiss pressed to the back of his hand, and sighs, letting his eyes fall shut. Part of him hopes that his lover will abandon this mission altogether, realize that lifting his spirits is a fruitless endeavor and that nothing will come of it. Another part of him just wants to be held, to be loved, to be reminded that he’s doing the absolute best that he can, even if he feels like he should be more lively than what he’s currently capable of.   
  


He can’t bring himself to ask for either option.  
  


“That’s all I get? Only ‘ _mmm_ ’?” Henry asks teasingly, the warm, happy lilt to his voice doing funny things to Alexander’s chest. “Surely I can get something a little more elaborate than that.” He states, kissing the back of his hand a few times more, before doing the same to each individual finger. 

“I’m fine.” He mumbles, staring at the backs of his eyelids, watching the phosphenes shift in and out of focus, shades of purple and green that make his stomach tighten and twist in discomfort. Another thing to add to his ever growing list. It must be at least a mile long by now, at the very least.   
  


Henry hums, a short and determined thing. “Don’t you think that it’s a little bit early for you to be in bed?” He continues, a loving, caring interrogation of sorts. He knows what this is all about; he received the notice in advance from Pez this morning. The day has been filled to the brim with distractions and non-strenuous activities, and he likes to believe that there’s been quite enough nonsense and beating around the bush.   
  


“It’s eight-thirty,” Alex replies, peeling his eyes open to send a spiteful glare to the clock mounted on their bedroom wall. “You’ve been telling me for ages that I need to get more sleep, why the sudden back track?” He quips, but doesn’t pull away from his touch.   
  


“Firstly, you’re still in your binder, and you’ve been binding since before I woke up this morning,” He points out, only dishing out what Alex had given him in the first place.

“I think I am going to have an aneurysm if you make me take it off.” Alex replies, dead-set on keeping it on. What Henry just said is completely factual; he surpassed eight hours a century ago. His whole front is aching, but he can’t bring himself to care too much about the repercussions that are sure to come with his actions. 

“You’ll have a _much_ worse fate than an aneurysm if you don’t, Mister.” Henry grumbles, and time his own shock, it actually provokes laughter— although it is rather painful. He knows that his lover probably won’t do anything drastic; the worst he’ll do is start crying because Alex is refusing to take care of himself. Still, his words stand at face value.

“That a threat, or a promise?” He asks, peering over at him for the first time since he’s made his grand entrance.

“Most definitely a promise.” Is the response, although the gentle hold on his hand and occasional pecks indicate otherwise.

“Well, then I guess I’d better go with the aneurysm,” He decides, hauling himself with a soft hiss. “Look away?” He questions softly, hoping that the request won’t be deemed upsetting, as they’ve seen one another naked more times than they’re possible of counting.

“Of course.” Henry responds, closing his eyes and going as far as to turn away from Alex completely. Always so accommodating, so patient— so deeply and needlessly caring.

He really doesn’t deserve someone so beautiful and good.

There’s a few minutes of struggling, but he manages to get the damned thing off, balling it up and chucking it into their clothes hamper. He thrashes for a moment as he tries to get his hoodie back on, eventually succeeding in doing so. 

“Alright,” He sighs, flopping against the mattress with little to no care. “We’re all clear.” He announces, mind put at ease when Henry immediately turns back around. Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe Henry actually wants to spend time with him, instead of only cheering him up for the sake of getting him to stop moping and bitching around the house. He clings to this concept, much like his lover’s returned to clinging to his hand.

“Shall I return to my list of reasons as to why I want you to be awake right now?”

“How much longer is it? We’re _really_ cutting into nap time right now.” Alex replies, only half serious.

“Only two more things, I promise.” Henry swears, and the look on his face almost makes Alex smile.

Almost.

“Alright, state your reasons.” He ultimately decides, finally holding his hand properly instead of leaving it limp in his grasp.

“Well, we’ve already taken care of number one, so that’s a feat in and of itself.” Henry acknowledges. “The second reason would have to be that you’ve been isolating yourself from human interaction all day, and that I miss you dearly.” He admits, features soft as the moonlight that’s spilling through their curtains and onto their bed. 

“I’ve been neglecting you, haven't I?” Alex asks, squeezing his hand. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, c’mere.” He coos, knowing that he’s not the only person in this house trying to cope with the day-to-day pressure and effort that comes with simply being alive.  


“It’s quite alright— you haven't been neglecting me, I’m just a bit needy, is all.” Henry responds, face turning a waxy pink, then a blazing red from embarrassment, his laugh a light titter as he shifts into a more proper sitting position, sighing softly as Alex adjusts, sitting up and roping him in. His head lays on his shoulder, a hand tangling into his curls; a safe position for when he’s not doing his best, for when he doesn’t want Henry to splay out across his body and let his hands roam along every last inch of skin. He’s afraid that something so intimate would ruin him.

  
“Everyone needs affection, babe. You aren’t being needy at all, I promise.” Alex assures him, wondering how the tables have managed to turn, how he was now comforting his lover instead of the other way around. It feels nice, though, after rejecting any and all forms of affection over the past twelve hours or so. “Tell me your last reason.” He instructs, hand rubbing firm circles into Henry’s back, feeling all the tension and knots from him sitting in an absolutely awful chair in their home office. He makes a note to shop around online for something more ergonomic.

“Well, I think it would be a good idea if we had a bit of a chat about your day,” He begins, voice muffled against the soft fabric of Alex’s hoodie. “When you get like this, you tend to shut everyone out. I just want to help you in any way I can.” He explains, playing with his hair. “Of course, if you don’t feel comfortable with talking about it, that’s alright. I just know what it’s like to explode after keeping everything all bottled up inside. I don’t want you to go through that.”

“Honestly, I appreciate it, but I don’t even know where I’d start.” He admits, humming softly when adoring pecks are pressed to his neck. “It’s just a lot to process, even for me.” He continues, slinging his arm around his waist when his hand gets too tired to continue its ministrations. 

“You don’t have to go too deep into it— just start wherever you feel most comfortable, and we’ll go from there.” Henry replies, hand cupping his face and caressing over the soft skin.

“You sure? Last time we talked about this, you got a _little_ emotional.”

“I’m sure I’ll do a _much_ better job of containing myself this time around.”

This helps Alex to feel somewhat reassured. He sighs, clearing his throat, struggling to find his words before he’s able to finally speak up.

“It’s like—“ His heart is palpitating, and he can feel his hands becoming clammy just by thinking about it. “It’s like I’m being tortured. Like someone has reduced my body to its most hideous state and left me with it. I’m in constant physical and mental anguish, and I just want it to stop.” He whispers, finding himself already getting overwhelmed.

Henry’s at his side, shushing and kissing him until he’s able to calm down. “Hey now, you’re okay.” He murmurs. “It’s just us; you’re going to be alright.”

“But I’m _not!_ ” Alex spits out, feeling like quite the hypocrite for getting onto Henry for being too emotional a few seconds ago. “I’m not okay— I’m just _not_.” He continues, getting a hold on his tone and volume. “I— half the time, I don’t feel like I’m a real person. I’m just in a constant state of denial, that this is the body I have to deal with every _fucking_ day.” He explains, voice getting higher, much to his embarrassment. “I can’t even look in the mirror, because my brain _fuckin_ ’— it just shuts down.”  
  


“And the other half?” Henry questions. He pulled away from his embrace ages ago, his only current focus being to comfort Alexander through this emotionally taxing dialogue. He hates seeing him like this, he can feel his eyes burning with tears, but he knows that nothing good will come out of ignoring his issues and sweeping them under the rug. He can’t afford to imagine what would happen if they chose to do so.   
  


“It feels like I’ve been shredded apart and someone did a half-assed job of stitching me back together. Like I’m falling apart and missing pieces. I get sick, and I hurt, and my skin crawls, and I cry— I’m just one big mess, if I’m honest.” He gets out, blunt and rushed and very obviously indicative of stress. “But I keep convincing myself that, maybe one day, the pain will stop. That everything _wicked_ and _disgusting_ and _wrong_ about me will go away. I know it won’t though. There just isn’t any way to satiate me, because in my head I’ll always just be a—“

“Hush.” Henry instructs, voice firm, yet tender and benign. “Don’t even _think_ of calling yourself such things, Alexander. Do not even _think_ about it.” He commands, cupping his face with both of his hands. “You are the most brilliant man I’ve ever known.”

“I—“

“No, it’s my turn to talk,” Henry says gently, pecking the corner of his mouth. “You’ve had your time, now it’s mine. You are not wicked, nor are you disgusting, or wrong. The fact that you’re able to think of yourself as such is so _ludicrous_ that my bloody head is _spinning_.” He exaggerates, showing his blatant disbelief, unable to fathom how anyone as perfect as his lover could have so little self esteem. “My darling, you are _brilliant_. So, _so_ brilliant. I’ve never met someone so charming, handsome, and hilarious. You are intelligent, you are passionate— you stand up for what you believe and you do what is right, what your heart desires. For these reasons, as well as many, many more, you are more of a man than most.”

“But I don’t—“

“You don’t what? Have the parts? Love, we’re working on that. Your top surgery consultation is only a few weeks from now. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, I promise you.” He says, one hand clapping Alex’s shoulder. “And that barely even matters, at least not to me. Like I said just now, you are passionate and more of a man than most. Where it actually bloody _counts_.” He elaborates, raising his eyebrows, forcing him to take the hint.

Alex can’t help but let out a huff of laughter, quickly wiping away the tears that had been pooling at the corners of his eyes. “Fuck,” He says, voice shaking and laugh unsteady. “I love you so much, you know that?” He asks, sniffling as a hand comes up to frame Henry’s face.

“You see, I’ve been hearing the rumors for ages now, but I’ve never been sure if they were true or false.” He explains sarcastically, kissing his palm. “Surely you can imagine the shock and elation that I’m feeling.”  
  


“Must be a lot for one man to handle.”

“It truly is; please have mercy on me, on my poor, fragile heart, my too delicate soul.”  
  


“We’ll see, Your Highness.”

“I suppose we shall, Mister Claremont-Diaz.”

He rolls his eyes, closing the gap between them with a kiss. Not urgent and passionate, rather something that makes warmth bloom in his chest for the the first time in what feels like aeons. He pulls away, flopping against the bed with a sigh, slowly easing out of the fog that’s swarmed his mind.

“Are you feeling a bit better?” Henry asks, and when Alexander looks over, he sees him propped up on one elbow, facing him. 

“Yeah, I am, actually.” Alex admits, turning to face him. His smile is small, but at least it isn’t forced. “Thank you, for being patient with me.”

“Consider it paying you back for all the times you’ve held me whilst I sobbed over the slightest inconveniences.” Henry replies, smiling when this provokes laughter from his partner. “Really, love, you don’t need to thank me. It’s the least I could do.” 

He just smiles, shaking his head. This man will never know just how much he’s saved him.

“I love you.” He breathes, leaning forward and pecking his lips once more.

They pull away, and Henry’s smile makes him feel like he’s slipped into a dream that he’ll never wake up from.

“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: @bi-disaster-fsotus.


End file.
